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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421964">Drifting Thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austenfanficgal/pseuds/Austenfanficgal'>Austenfanficgal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Can't Take My Eyes Off of You [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Day dreams, F/M, Fantasy, Flirting, Jane Eyre - Freeform, LJ POV, Pride and Prejudice References, Still Pretending, Study Buddies, Unresolved Sexual Tension, You’re Beautiful, baking cookies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:28:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austenfanficgal/pseuds/Austenfanficgal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lara Jean and Peter are just pretending. None of this is real. It doesn’t matter that she’s attracted to him. It doesn’t matter that he invades her every waking moment - and perhaps a few sleeping ones too. This is not real. So for now, she’ll just live in the fantasy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Kavinsky &amp; Lara Jean Song-Covey, Peter Kavinsky/Lara Jean Song-Covey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Can't Take My Eyes Off of You [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Jane Eyre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello All! I’ve been an avid reader of TATBILB fanfic, but this is my first foray into writing LJ and PK myself. I’m not sure yet if I want to leave this as a one shot or if I want to make it a collection of sorts. I love the idea of writing something similar from Peter’s perspective as well because they clearly both spent a lot of time dreaming and fantasizing and wondering about one another before either of them could remotely voice what they were feeling. </p><p>Also, I freely recognize that Jane Eyre is not a typical romance, lol, but I was trying to think of a classic hero with broad shoulders and dark curly hair and Mr. Darcy seemed too obvious. ;o) Also Toby Stephens is really delicious.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitting in the bleachers watching lacrosse practice was not the best way to concentrate on Jane Eyre. Even though their personalities were completely opposite, picturing Edward Rochester’s long dark waves and broad frame and then gazing out to watch Peter’s long limbs and strong arms as he gripped his **ahem** stick and cradled the ball down the field was doing unholy things to her imagination. She probably shouldn’t have watched the Toby Stephens/Ruth Wilson miniseries on PBS Masterpiece last weekend either. It was bad enough reading Jane’s words and her rebuffs of Rochester’s advances, but the visual of them only a hair’s breadth apart and alone in his bedchamber after the fire, him frantically grasping her hand while dressed only in their nightclothes...Well, let’s just say that romance novels clearly had some footing in literary canon. </p><p>Coach Driscoll’s whistle broke through her wandering thoughts and drew her attention back to the action on the field where Peter was joining the other guys for a quick huddle before clearing their equipment and heading in her direction. Stashing her book back in her backpack, she started her descent, intent on meeting him half way at least. When she was maybe ten paces out, she called out to him and he turned his head and graced her with a broad smile, eyes crinkling affectionately, and a short wave of the wrist to signal her approach. </p><p>“Hey Covey! Didn’t realize you could hang around today.” </p><p>He hadn’t fully turned towards her yet, so her eyes lingered over his muscled arms and broad shoulders as she watched him hoist the goal’s frame and carry it back into position. Realizing belatedly that he’d actually spoken, she shook her head briefly and squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, uh Kitty had play practice after school, so Dad was going to come get her and uh I was going to get a ride home with Chris, but then I thought I’d just...hang around. You know, in case you could take me.” She was fiddling with the strap on her mini backpack and toeing her Mary Jane in the grass, biting her lip and peeking up at him then looking quickly away. God, why was she so nervous. He literally drove her to school and home again basically five days a week. I mean, it was in their contract. Yes he had practice today and yes it was last minute, so no it didn’t suit their typical schedule, but he said he would drive her, so her showing up like this clearly was not a big deal. Right? </p><p>She finally looked at him long enough to see the corner of his mouth raised in a flirtatious smirk. He was pleased with himself. That much was certain. God she was so silly. “Yeah Covey, I can take you.” A bigger grin now. “Lemme just jump in the shower real quick and we’ll be on our way. Do you want to wait in the Jeep?”</p><p>“Uh, sure. That’d be great.” She replied softly. </p><p>“Great.” He reached over then to grab her bag off her shoulder. </p><p>“Oh, you don’t have to do that Peter.”</p><p>“I don’t mind,” he quickly replied and hooked the strap over his left shoulder along with his own sports bag and a hand towel. His right hand snaked around her waist which caught her by surprise because the field was clearly deserted by now and it didn’t seem to be for anyone’s benefit. His arm was a little damp across her back as they walked to the parking lot and when she glanced up at him she could see how the sweat had moistened his hair and exaggerated the ringlets. Thinking about his luscious curls brought back her earlier musings and she cleared her throat and fingered her collarbone absentmindedly. </p><p>“Oh my bad Covey!” He said emphatically and pulled his arm away. “I totally didn’t even think about how much I must stink right now and I had you tucked all up into my armpit.” He clenched his teeth and leaned back from her making an exaggerated face and scrunching up his nose, then took a big whiff himself and coughed loudly to emphasize the point. She chuckled at first and then burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it really. His easy smiles and bright eyes always shot this ray of happiness through her. It was infectious and hard to ignore. “God you’re such a ham,” she replied and gave him a little shove. “You’re not that bad,” it was her turn to smirk now. “I do live with Kitty and we’ve pretty firmly established that she’s a heathen, so I’ve smelled worse.” </p><p>“Alright,” he said then, “if you want to risk it who am I to judge” and he pulled her in tighter than before. </p><p>If she was honest, she loved the way he smelled—earthy, salty, a little spice from his body wash that lingered even through all the sweat. There was something primal about the way it made her feel. His fingers gripped her waist a little and the sensation sent a ripple effect through her abdomen. She wondered if he could tell that she was nervous around him, that she was attracted to him—she hadn’t wanted to admit that at first, but boy was she—and once she’d acknowledged it, it was like she just couldn’t turn it off. Every touch was arousing, every glance was heated, every word whispered against her ear and echoed in her brain searching for hidden meanings and innuendos. Peter Kavinsky was the world’s biggest flirt. Everyone knew that. Peter himself acknowledged it freely. So it was hard to tell if any of his compliments or touches or looks were actually about her, or if he was just operating in default charm mode. Did he think about her too? God she wished she knew. Or, maybe not. Because then, then she might not be able to deny herself the things she truly wanted. Better to live in the fantasy and play it safe. Too bad he was so delicious. </p><p>“Covey”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>He chuckled at her as he held the passenger door open. </p><p>“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought.”</p><p>“Yeah I kinda caught that.” She climbed into the seat and he closed the door behind her pressing his fingers inside the car where the window had been rolled down. “I’ll be out in 15.” He reached in and tapped the underside of her chin gently. She looked up at him with a small smile and tried not to blush at his affection. “What goes on in that head of yours girl?”</p><p>She sighed and gave a shrug. “Oh just the usual, you know.”</p><p>He smiled again and shook his own head a little in reply. “Alright. Be back in a bit.” And with that he took off in the direction of the locker rooms and she burrowed back into the leather seat trying very hard not to think about Edward Rochester pressing down onto Jane Eyre as she lay back on the chaise lounge and begged her not to go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. P & P</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They’d been doing this fake dating thing for a few weeks now. Spending time together was getting to be so familiar, that it almost felt like they’d never stopped being friends in middle school. And yet, you could always learn new things about a person. And she really hadn’t expected to learn that.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! Sorry for the delay. Trying to craft a longer chapter this time, so would love some feedback on the pacing, since I’ve mostly stuck to single scenes thus far. Still from LJ’s POV. Still fake dating. </p><p>Today’s literary reference...Pride and Prejudice. So expect a lot of pining and UST 😋😉</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Covey!” Her name echoed through the juniors’ hallway, reverberating off the lockers and she turned to see Peter jogging towards her. “Covey, wait up a sec!”</p><p>He’d finally reached her as she stashed the last of her books in her bag and closed her locker, perhaps with a little more force than she’d intended. </p><p>“Damn girl! You been working out?!” He pulled an exaggerated face and leaned back like her strength had physically repelled him. She couldn’t help but chuckle in response. Playfully, she shoved him a little and put on her best “fight face”.</p><p>“Maybe. You scared Kavinsky?” She loved this kind of banter. </p><p>“Terrified.” He whispered, then pulled her in for a tight hug, locking his arms around her lower back and trapping her against him. By default her own hands pressed into his chest, fingers splayed against his well honed pecs, her breath leaving her in a slight gasp. </p><p>“Well, I guess you better be on your best behavior then, right?” She replied, but her voice was too soft and didn’t quite carry the same teasing tone from before. From this position she really had to crane her neck to look into his face and if she could’ve stepped out of her body and watched the scene play out from above, she would’ve thought that they were about to kiss—it was the perfect rom com setup. His expression shifted a bit as well in the 30 seconds they’d stood together, looking for all intents and purposes, a real couple. </p><p>He cleared his throat. “Right. Whatever you say, Covey.” God, if only. </p><p>She pulled back at that point and he must have felt her weight beginning to shift because he immediately broke his hold, too. She cleared her own throat and took a few seconds to gather her thoughts again. She turned down the hall and headed to the parking lot, Peter fell into step beside her, and his hand slipped belatedly into her right back pocket. </p><p>“So, was there something else on your mind or were you just trying to grab me before I fled the building?” Thankfully her voice had evened out and she’d adopted a lighter, more casual tone again. </p><p>“No...I mean, yes! Yes, I wanted to talk to you about my lit project.” His body turned slightly towards hers as they walked, mimicking whatever direct request he was about to make of her. “So, we’re studying female authors right now and I know that Jane Austen is like, the queen, right? Like she got the whole female population revved up with that guy Darzy, right?”</p><p>“Darcy,” she corrected, “Fitzwilliam Darcy. And yes, Pride and Prejudice is definitely one of the most renowned and well read books of the last two hundred years.”</p><p>“So, you think she’s a good pick right?” It seemed like he was genuinely asking her, seeking her approval. Sometimes it felt like she held more sway over him than she realized or could possibly imagine. I mean, obviously she read...A LOT...and she was a girl...but was her opinion truly relevant? If she said ‘no, it’s not a good choice,’ would he actually pick something else? Or, was this just about stroking his own ego? Reminding her that he knew things about topics of interest, topics of interest to girls...the whole female population in fact. </p><p>He was still looking at her, eyebrows slightly raised, waiting for her reply. Clearly she was overthinking this. It was a school assignment. He was asking a fellow classmate, a friend even, for advice on his project. For reassurance, since he knew that she was a good student. “Yes. I think Austen is a great choice.”</p><p>“Great,” he echoed and reinforced it with a quick nod, returning his eyes to the parking lot ahead of them. </p><p>“Do you have to choose one novel in particular or is Mrs. Sumner looking for a retrospective on the whole of Austen’s works?”</p><p>He scratched his head and pursed his lips slightly. “One novel.” He switched to an affected voice then and recited what she was sure must have been Mrs. Sumner’s instructions at the end of class: “You should all read the book in question, complete a biographical questionnaire about the author, and then analyze the work and discuss how you feel the author’s life and gender influenced her writing and the reception of the text by the general public and critics of her time.”</p><p>“Wow. So this is like, pretty significant.” She replied with her own set of pursed lips and raised eyebrows. </p><p>“Yeah, it’s in place of our midterm exam. She said that she felt rather than asking us to memorize a bunch of facts and pick them out of a multiple choice lineup, she would have us stretch our analytical brains and see if we could synthesize the past four weeks of study into a cohesive thesis.” He looked slightly defeated as he said it, clearly aware of what an undertaking this was going to be. </p><p>She climbed into his passenger seat and buckled her seat belt, arranging her bag on the floor at her feet and then turning to face him. </p><p>“And how do you feel about all that?” He turned the key in the ignition, but he was looking at her now too. </p><p>“Honestly, it sounds fucking intimidating. Like, I already have all this shit to do for chem lab which requires showing up to school early or staying late, and then we’ve got fall conditioning right now and Coach has been on my ass because there will undoubtedly be college scouts come spring and ‘this is your time to shine’” — he shook his head and threw in some air quotes then switched gears and turned toward the exit. She knew he had a lot on his plate. While school took up a lot of her time, she was a quick learner and gleaned a lot from books—people, not so much—but she didn’t have the added pressures or commitments of varsity sports. And, she knew that Peter struggled. He was smart, he really was, but he had to work at, with writing especially. This essay was going to be no easy feat for him. </p><p>“Well, of course I’ll help you.” It just came out of her mouth. She didn’t even think about it. “I mean, not with lacrosse— I don't even know what I could do in that department—but with lit and chemistry, definitely.”</p><p>His whole face lit up. “Aww Covey, do you mean that? Because that would be so awesome!” He kept sneaking glances at her then shifting back to the road. “You are so wicked smart, and we both know I’m such an oaf when it comes to this stuff.”</p><p>“You are not an oaf, Peter.” She reached over and patted his arm then. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but it seemed like he needed the reassurance right now and her body responded instinctually. </p><p>As he pulled up in front of her house, he looked over to her and then pulled her in for a quick hug. Like the one at her locker, she hadn’t been expecting it and her mind froze in response, but once again, her body seemed to know exactly what to do and she shifted the hand that had been on his right arm around to his back. He gave her a brief squeeze and pulled away just as quickly. </p><p>“Covey you have no clue how much you just saved my ass. There’s no way I could pull all this off without you.” His look was one of adoration and gratitude, genuine gratitude. In all honestly she couldn’t hold his eye contact any longer or she’d melt into a puddle right there on his leather seat. So, she tried her best to shrug off his compliments and grabbed for the door handle. </p><p>“It’s fine Peter, really. I could recite Pride and Prejudice in my sleep. So, we’ll have you shipping Elizabeth and Darcy in no time.” </p><p>She turned back to look at him one last time with a quick wave and a smile before she headed inside, but it seemed he wasn’t pulling out of her driveway, instead he was jogging down the sidewalk, clearly following her to the door. </p><p>“Oh, did you want to start now?” She knew she was cocking her head like a bird and that her tone was off. It probably wasn’t the most attractive or inviting image, but he’d caught her off guard...again.  </p><p>“Yeah, I mean, we’ve got a late practice today, so I don’t have anywhere to be till 6 and you know I can’t eat right before conditioning anyway. Oh hey, do you think we could get study snacks?” His tone was giddy and his face was eager like a little boy hoping for a treat. Frankly, she just wished she was brave enough to offer him something more salacious than chocolate. “Kitty’s yogurt smoothies would totally hit the spot right now. Oh, and those macadamia nut cookies you made on Monday. Those were delish!”</p><p>“Sure. Of course.” She ushered them both through the front door, stowing her shoes in the coat closet and leaving it open for him to follow, which he did, then wandered over to the kitchen. “Let me just preheat the oven and then we can get settled in.” </p><p>“Sounds great,” he replied casually and she turned to see him with his head in the fridge, gathering their smoothies then setting them on the counter next to the two plates he’d already pulled from the cupboard. He knew where her plates were. He felt comfortable taking snacks out of her fridge. At what point in the last few weeks had their fake relationship started to feel this real? It was almost domestic. She knew that Peter wasn’t the first boy to make himself comfortable in her house, Josh had clearly been there before, but it hadn’t felt like this when Josh was in her kitchen. Sure there had been a few butterflies and giggles and really just too much mooning on her part, but with Peter there was this constant underlying nervous energy. He made her twitchy. She was physically aware of everything. His voice raised goosebumps on her skin. His profile left an afterimage in her mind. It followed her throughout the day and crept into her nighttime musings, competing with his hands for top prize as the focus of her dreams. </p><p>“Alright Professor Covey, what’s my first step?” She woke up at the sound of his voice and looked at him properly rather than through glazed eyes. “Do I read the book? Watch the movie?  Check out Jane’s Facebook profile?” He chuckled at his little joke and gave her wink. </p><p>“Actually, you’re laughing, but I guarantee you Jane Austen has a Facebook, a Twitter, and an Insta account.” She gave him a cheeky grin in return and took a seat next to him at the island. “Let’s check.”</p><p>“Seriously?! Now you’re talking, Covey. If I had known this chick was on Insta I would’ve followed her right away.” She pulled up the app and searched for Jane Austen tags. No luck at finding a profile specifically for Jane, but definitely some promising options. </p><p>“Alright, here’s one that might be good. The Jane Austen Centre of Bath.” She handed him her phone so he could scroll through the posts. “Austen lived in Bath during her adult life and found real solace there. The Jane Austen Centre is a museum dedicated to her life and works. So, you’ll definitely get some good biographical content from them and probably some great pop culture references for her works, too.”</p><p>“Covey, this is freaking awesome! Why don’t teachers show us this crap? I mean really, most of us would be way more interested in—what did it say—‘Jane Austen’s Regency World’ if we knew that we could research it on social media.” He wasn’t just placating her, he actually seemed interested and appreciative. He was smiling and scrolling and sipping on yogurt. He was adorable and perfect and she was completely and utterly screwed. </p><p>BEEP BEEP BEEP. </p><p>“Oh, cookie time!” She jumped up from her seat and went to grab the hot pads from their drawer. Trying to remain focused on the task at hand lest she burn herself, again, she set the cookie tray down on the stove and then carefully started transferring the dozen freshly baked treats to their cooling rack. “Oh, I forgot to ask earlier, do you have a copy of the book yet?”</p><p>When she turned around to grab his plate she saw that he was already looking at her, but it wasn’t her face he seemed to have been watching. “Uh, no. No, not yet.” He glanced up quickly in reply. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one who’d been distracted and more than a bit warm ‘studying’ here in the kitchen. </p><p>“I have a copy upstairs if you want to borrow mine.” His eyes widened a bit at the mention of ‘upstairs’. Despite the image they’d been trying to put forth and the real closeness that had formed between them, he hadn’t been in her room yet and she hadn’t seen his. </p><p>He cleared his throat and tugged on the collar of his shirt a bit. “Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind that’d be great.” His voice was a little more gravelly just then and when she came around the counter with their plates she saw him wiping his hands on his jeans. She was definitely not the only one feeling the heat, the tension that had steadily been building between them. </p><p>“Ok great. That’s great. Do you want to go get it now?”</p><p>“What, now? Like, in your room?” He’d interrupted her. She’d meant to say that she could go now. She could go alone...to her room...to get the book. His book. Well her book, that she was lending to him. </p><p>“Oh, um yeah, sure. I mean, that’s where it is. The book. In my bedroom. Next to my nightstand.” She was rambling. She was nervous and rambling. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be doing much better. Clearly neither of them had planned to spend time in proximity to her bed. Not now. Maybe not ever. </p><p>“Your bedroom. Where your bed is. Yeah, I mean, ok let’s go get that book. Gotta do it sometime right?” He chuckled and stood, then faltered in his steps. “Not it. You know I didn’t mean ‘it’, right?” He looked anxious now. He couldn’t seem to look her in the eye and kept glancing at her and then quickly averting his gaze to the stairs again. </p><p>His anxiety had ironically made her feel better, more in control. She wasn’t the only one on the struggle bus today. She gave him a big grin and stepped around him placing her foot on the first stair. “Yes, Peter. I understood that you aren’t trying to have sex with me right now.” </p><p>He blushed deeply and chuckled again, but her lightness seemed to set him at ease and he followed her up the stairs. </p><p>“You know Covey, it’s not the most ludicrous idea. Me wanting to have sex with you.”</p><p>WHAT???!!! He hadn’t actually said that right? That had been fantasy Peter talking. She was in an alternate universe right now and Dream Peter Kavinsky had just set up the next scene. She’d be super flirty back and then she’d touch him and like a lightning bolt striking, he’d be on her and tongues would be lashing and clothes would be flying and they’d hardly make it to her room before…</p><p>“Lara Jean? Lara Jean? Honestly, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to offend you. I just meant, you know, that you’re beautiful and I’m a teenage guy with hormones and all that crap and...I wasn’t actually trying to proposition you. Please don’t be mad.” </p><p>They were at the top of the stairs now and he was talking to her. His tone was begging, a little apologetic. Sincere. He’d just grabbed her arm. Not harshly, but still firm. Serious. He wanted to get her attention. She should start talking now. </p><p>“What? No, I’m not mad. It’s fine. Hormones...totally get that. I mean, obviously you’re...you know, too, so I get it.Truly. Really. Not a big deal.” She couldn’t look at him. These were not actual sentences. Her mouth was just moving of its own accord. And she was gesturing. Waving vaguely at his midsection and then at herself. He’d relaxed his grip on her arm and his fingers lingered and brushed softly for a moment before they dropped away. </p><p>She turned to open her door then, and as she opened it to usher him inside she tried to sneak a peek at his face, get a read on the situation before they entered her private domain. And clearly her words must have soothed him because instead of the panic that had been writ large only a few moments ago, there was his smirk and a lifted brow, just the one, and sparkling eyes. He caught her glancing at him, which only furthered his grin, and then moved around her. </p><p>“So, I’m ‘you know’?” he teased her. </p><p>“What?” She replied. Once the door was closed behind her she faced him, genuinely confused about what he was asking. </p><p>“I said that you were hot and then out there in the hall you said that you understand and that I was ‘you know’ too!” He looked giddy again. Maybe even a little maniacal. She hadn’t really said that, had she? I mean, not aloud.</p><p>“That is not what I said. Not at all.” She had to walk this back. She was not about to admit to him of all people that she was attracted to him. That her eyes lingered on various parts of his body. And that the thought of those body parts, later on, when she was alone, in her room, not very far from where they currently stood, definitely created some interesting and stimulating feelings, well, everywhere. </p><p>“Uh Uh. No way, Covey.” He was leaning into her space now wagging his finger at her. “You totally admitted it. You think I’m gorgeous. You want to kiss me. You want to hug me.”</p><p>His voice had taken on a singsong tone and he bobbed his shoulders a bit. </p><p>“Wait. Why are you quoting Miss Congeniality?” When had he watched Miss Congeniality? Was it with Gen? Did he watch romantic movies by himself? Did guys do that?</p><p>“Totally beside the point, Covey. I’m just saying, that you,” he brought out his finger again and poked her gently in the chest, “should totally just admit that we,” and then flipped the gesture around so that his thumb pointed at his own chest, “are equally attractive AND attracted to each other.” He was smiling. He wasn’t teasing as much as before, and the smile had softened. It seemed more genuine now. Maybe even a little cautious. Like saying those things out loud had made him feel a little vulnerable, too. </p><p>She took a breath and stepped back from him, then walked around the bed to her nightstand and fingered the books set on its top. Bodice rippers, classic love stories, young adult novels...at some point in all of them the heroine stood at this exact crossroads. She was suddenly aware of her attraction and maybe his, and she had a choice to make. She had to decide what to do if he declared himself. Would she admit her feelings too? Would he return them? Would there be protests from the peanut gallery? Gossip in the halls?</p><p>Wait, she was getting ahead of herself. He hadn’t said he loved her or even liked her. He had said he was attracted to her. That she was beautiful and he would have sex with her. That was not the same thing. Not the same thing at all. And, really, did she even have feelings for him? Aside from friendship—and lust obviously—but actual romantic feelings? No, of course not. This wasn’t real. They had a contract. She’d made sure. So, what harm was there in telling him he was cute? Really? What would actually change?</p><p>“Lara Jean?” He was trying to catch her attention. </p><p>“Hmm?” She turned around to look at him again, her fingers still resting delicately atop the books. </p><p>“You do that a lot, don’t you?” he asked. </p><p>“What’s that?” She asked with a raised brow. </p><p>“Disappear into your own world.” He’d walked over to her desk and was sitting in her chair. His face was relaxed and his elbows were propped on his knees, his hands clasped together. He’d caught her drifting into her thoughts again. </p><p>“Yeah. My mind just wanders. And honestly, I’m mostly used to being alone, so, I sometimes forget that there are other people in the room who I should be interacting with instead. I mean, my family is just used to it now, and Chris, well, you know Chris. She really doesn’t need anyone else to have a conversation, so yeah…” </p><p>She was watching him and he was watching her. Not in a creepy way or even staring, but just mutual recognition. </p><p>“Well, that’s totally fine if you want to live in your head, but don’t be afraid to share those thoughts out loud. I mean, I always like talking to you, hearing what you have to say. So, it’s not like you have to hold back on my account.” He gave her a small smile as he said it. An extra little encouragement, she thought. Then looked away to glance around her room. </p><p>“You know, you can share your thoughts, too.” What?! Why had she just said that. Was she probing? Did she want to explore his inner workings? Fishing for more compliments maybe? It’d been beyond great to hear him say that she was ‘beautiful’.</p><p>He chuckled, but didn’t look back at her. “I think I already probably said too much. You know. On the stairs.” Darn, he wasn’t going to say it again. But, maybe that was her fault. He’d made an overture and she’d been mute and then rambling and contradictory.  Trust and secrets came tit for tat. If she wanted to know his thoughts, and honestly, she really did, then she’d have to reveal at least a few of hers in turn. After all, they really didn’t know one another well. This was all very new. </p><p>She moved closer to him and sat on the edge of her bed, placing the worn copy of  Pride &amp; Prejudice in her lap. </p><p>“Peter,” he looked up at the sound of his name, “do you know what this book is really about?”</p><p>“Love, I’m guessing,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. </p><p>“Love, yes, but more than that it’s about two people who just kept misunderstanding one another. They let their own prejudices, their different backgrounds, and the opinions of others speak for them and guide all of their decisions, instead of just sharing their thoughts, their true thoughts, aloud.” She reached out to touch his arm and he followed her outstretched hand with his eyes, then looked back to her face. </p><p>“So, what exactly are you saying, Covey?” His brow was furrowed and his tone definitely suggested confusion, maybe a little unease, too. She dropped her hand and gave him the book instead. </p><p>“I’m saying...I’m saying that I am attracted to you. You’re handsome, something you’re well aware of, so obviously, I’m attracted to you. But, this, what we have, doesn’t have to be anything more than it is. So, let’s not get all worked up about a bunch of silly hormones and misunderstandings, ok?” She really meant that. She was looking at him for confirmation because she hoped he understood what she was saying. She liked him. She knew she did. He probably knew it, too. But they needed to be realistic and think about what they were doing here. This was a fake relationship with a ticking timer. Soon enough Gen would wisen up and want Peter back and then she would go back to being Lara Jean, not Covey. And they both knew that. So, it was really better if they didn’t complicate things further with touching and more confessions about gorgeous eyed and glossy hair and perfectly full lips and...</p><p>“Alright, Covey. I hear what you’re saying.” He stood up then and started to move toward the door, book in hand. He turned the knob and held it open for her to pass through, and as she did he reached forward and lightly touched her palm so she paused to look back at him. </p><p>“Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, Lara Jean.” He rubbed the top of her hand just briefly with the pad of his thumb and gave a quick squeeze before letting go. </p><p>“Sure. Anytime.” She smiled at him and stepped onto the first stair, her hand still tingling with the impression of his fingertips brushing hers. </p><p>“So, think the cookies are still warm?” He asked lightly. </p><p>“If not, I’m sure we can warm them up again in no time.” She replied and headed back to the kitchen. </p><p>Yep, they’d definitely warm up fast—probably sooner than she was really ready for.</p>
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